


A Present From Blackpool

by moonyprof



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonyprof/pseuds/moonyprof
Summary: How did Neville Longbottom become such a good dancer? Letters to Gran, lessons, and a mystery explained. Inspired by the movie version of *Goblet of Fire.*





	A Present From Blackpool

# A Present from Blackpool

 

Dear Gran:

 

Thank you for sending the parcel with my pyjamas. I’m sorry I forgot to pack them.  I guess I was thinking about how nice it would be to see the greenhouses again and wondering if Professor Sprout had got the Bubotubers she was talking about.  She has, and we’re already squeezing them out.  Did I tell you that Trevor really likes the greenhouses? They’re nice and warm, even in wintertime. 

 

Sorry.  I forgot what I was thinking.

 

Thanks for the pyjamas. 

 

Professor Dumbledore told us that there’s going to be a Tri-Wizard Tournament this year. I forget the details. I’m sorry. I know you probably wish I would enter, but I don’t know enough, Gran, and anyway, they changed the rules, so I’m too young.  Fred and George Weasley were very mad about that and said it was rubbish, and Ron said he wishes he could enter, but I don’t want to and they wouldn’t pick me anyhow. 

 

What are the fancy black robes you packed in with my pyjamas?  I don’t remember seeing them before.  Do the shiny shoes go with them?

 

Love,

Neville

 

 

**********

 

Dear Neville:

 

I hope you have unpacked the fancy black robes and hung them up somewhere safe.  I have sent an owl to Professor McGonagall to ask your classmates to make sure that you do.  Don’t for heaven’s sake hang them near a window, or they will get moldy.  And don’t drape them too close to the fire, and, --

 

Never mind. I’ll ask Minerva to tell your friends.  Dean Thomas will probably know what to do. 

 

You won’t need the dress robes until Christmas.  Don’t worry about them for now.

 

Be sure to wear the extra-high Wellingtons if you go poking about for water plants in the lake again.

 

Augusta Longbottom

 

**********

 

Gran!

 

Professor McGonagall said that we have to dance!  It’s a dance and I have to dance!  I have to dance at a dance! 

 

Is that what the fancy robes are for?  I wish you’d told me.  No, I don’t.  I’m glad you didn’t tell me before.  I’m so nervous I could die. 

 

Neville

 

PS:  May I bring Trevor along with me for moral support?

 

*********

 

Neville:

 

You will wear those nice dress robes and the shiny shoes.  You will go to the dance and you will behave like a gentleman and a Longbotttom.  No, you may not bring Trevor.  Toads do not belong at a ball and he would only be unhappy.

 

I enclose a copy of _Waltzing for Wizards_ , by Victor and Aline Terpsichore.  There are little footie diagrams inside that will show you what to do.  I would also like to draw your attention to the chapters entitled “Basic Ballroom Blunders and How Not to Make Them” and “Etiquette for the Young Wizard.” 

 

Stand up straight.

 

Your Gran

 

*******

 

Dear Gran:

 

I dunno. Is this your old copy?  It looks pretty old.  I don’t mean that you’re pretty old, I mean, the book’s pretty old, and—won’t I look silly?  There’s something in there called the Werewolf One Step.  Do people do that anymore?

 

The footie diagrams keep telling me to start over.  I’m trying, though.  The book plays music when I do that one-two-three thing and it says it won’t do that until you’ve mastered the basic steps, so I must be making progress. 

 

Neville

 

PS:  Ron Weasley hates his dress robes.  They’re maroon, like all the jumpers his mum knits him.  I guess I’m not the only one who’s worried.

 

*******

 

Dear Neville:

 

Ignore the chapter on the Werewolf One Step.  No, I don’t think anyone does it anymore.  The book is your granddad’s from when we were courting. I’ve performed an Expunging Charm on his more personal notes, however, so don’t bother looking for them.

I am glad you are making progress.  Practice makes perfect.  You should ask a girl to escort as soon as possible, too.  It’s polite to allow young ladies plenty of time to prepare, and gentlemen don’t make ladies sit around until the last minute. 

 

 

Gran

 

******

 

ESCORT??!!!

 

********

 

Dear Neville:

 

Yes, escort. Didn’t you read that chapter on “Etiquette for the Young Wizard”? You have duties, and they are:

 

To make sure at least one girl is properly escorted.

To ask her well in advance.

To walk her from her home to the ball safely, even if “home” is the Gryffindor Common Room.

To make sure that she dances, either with you or with a reliable friend you trust, as much as she wants to.

To find her a place to sit that is not too warm or too cool.

To fetch her drinks and light refreshments, and to offer before she asks.

To walk her back from the ball to her home safely, even if “home” is the Gryffindor Common Room.

 

Young boys can be so silly.  You are not asking anyone to marry you, Neville.  You are making sure a nice friend of yours can have a nice time.  That’s all. Pick someone who’s been kind to you, and be kind in return.

 

Gran

 

********

 

Dear Gran:

 

Thanks. I got a little scared there for a minute.  I hadn’t really thought about my friends as girls before.

 

I asked Hermione Granger.  She’s been really nice to me. I’m sure she’s kept me from failing Potions more than once, and she’s certainly much less scary than Professor Snape.  But she said she was already going with someone. Ginny Weasley was standing right next to her, and I thought about what you said, and I know she can’t go unless a fourth-year asks her.  So I asked her if she would go with me, and she said yes.

 

I think she fancies Harry Potter, and Ron said Harry ought to take her instead, but she said no, she’d already said she was going with me.  I don’t think they knew I was there, because I was on the floor behind some chairs pressing some Kneazle Grass in my Herbology notebook at the time.  But I overheard them anyway.  I think she’s being a really good sport about it.

 

I guess I’ve done everything I can do, Gran, so I’ll write you after the Yule Ball is over. Happy Christmas, Gran. Expect a package from Honeydukes. I don’t remember what I asked them to send but I know I asked back in October because I knew I would forget.

 

Neville

 

********

 

Dear Neville:

 

Happy Christmas, and thank you for the Chocolate Cauldrons.  Someone remembered they’re my favorite. 

 

Enjoy the collecting kit.  The bottles are supposed to be unbreakable and the little bags are Self-Labelling.  I’m also enclosing a picture of your Granddad and me.  That was our first dance together, and sometimes you look a bit like him.

 

Stand up straight.

 

Gran

 

**********

Dear Gran:

 

I got in late. Me!  Imagine me, I got in late.  Ginny said she had a really nice time and I don’t think she was just saying that, although I think she still fancies Harry. 

 

I did everything you said to do.  I got dressed in plenty of time and Dean made sure I scrubbed all the green out from under my fingernails.  I tucked Trevor up and told him not to wait up for me and that toads didn’t like balls. I waited down in the Common Room for Ginny.  She looked really pretty and she was wearing something a bit sparkly, and I think she was nervous, too.  I didn’t think girls got nervous.  I thought they just know how to dress and act and behave, they just _know_ , but maybe I’m wrong about that. 

 

We walked down to the Great Hall, and they had it all decorated—I don’t think I can describe it—like a crystal palace, Gran.  We passed Ron and Harry.  They were waiting for Parvati and Padma Patil down in the entrance hall. Were they supposed to do that? I heard Ron say something about Hermione crying her eyes out and that she’d only said she had a date because she didn’t want to have to go with me.  That made me a bit unhappy.  I didn’t think I was that bad.  I know I’m not good-looking like Cedric Diggory, and I’m not funny like Fred and George, and I can’t draw like Dean, and of course I’m not famous like Harry.  But I didn’t think I was so bad that a girl would lie about having a date, just so she didn’t have to go with me. 

 

Well, Hermione wasn’t lying, and I’m glad about that, because I didn’t think she would lie to me.  In fact, she was going with Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion.  You remember, when I was hoping we could go to the Quidditch World Cup—anyhow, Viktor Krum is the world-famous Bulgarian player I kept talking about, although I don’t talk about him as much as Ron Weasley does.  Or did.  She looked beautiful. I mean Hermione. Not Viktor or Ron.  In fact, I think Ron felt almost as bad as I did a minute or two before that.  He looked like Trevor does when he’s eaten something a bit too big, tongue all hanging out and eyes bulging.  I don’t even know if Hermione saw him, because Viktor Krum went right up to her and clicked his heels and took her away, all smooth and Continental, and then Ginny pulled on my arm and I said sorry and we went inside. 

 

I put Ginny’s cloak down, and then the band started playing and all the champions marched past us.  I waved at Hermione, but she didn’t notice, and Harry didn’t notice either, although I think he didn’t notice because he was looking straight ahead with his eyes all glazed over.  Then the champions had to open the Yule Ball. I’m glad it was them and not me, because I wouldn’t want everyone staring at me like that.  It looked as though Parvati was pushing Harry around and I felt sorry for him.  Then Ginny looked at me as though she expected me to do something and I knew I was going to have to dance.

 

We were both really surprised.  We just floated around and around, and I twirled her and steered her through the crowd and we went round, and the music was one-two-three in my head and my legs and my feet and I was doing it, I was really dancing, and Ginny looked up at me as though I weren’t a Puffskein that hadn’t been too healthy but maybe someone a little _interesting_. 

 

It was terrific.

 

In fact, I’ve been trying to figure out what happened.  I know I’ve been practicing and you sent me the book and gave me all that good advice.  In case I didn’t say so earlier, thanks.  But I don’t think that explains why I suddenly could really dance, and while I was whirling Ginny around, I did something really strange: I remembered something.

 

You remember back when I was small and Great Uncle Algie was trying to scare the magic out of me? Before he dropped me out the window and I bounced?  Remember when we went to Blackpool Pier? 

 

I was just standing there.  Actually, Great Uncle Algie had just taken me off one of the rides and I’d just been sick behind a tip.  He bought me a candy apple and said it would take the taste out of my mouth, and the next thing I knew, I went flying and really, really cold water was closing over my head and I was going to die. 

 

It’s funny, but that’s almost exactly what I felt like when Professor McGonagall said I was going to have to dance, and when you said I was going to have to ask a girl, and when Ginny looked at me as though she expected me to _do_ something.  All of a sudden, brr, cold, blackness, waving my arms around, no good, I’m going down, I’m going to die. 

 

Well, when it happened the first time, I sort of flailed my way up to the surface, and then something washed up and clonked me on the head.  I felt my hand close around it and then I was going down again, and somewhere in there I guess someone fished me out and I was being sick again, only this time it was cold salt water, and you were yelling at Great Uncle Algie and he was looking really disappointed. 

 

I must still have been clutching the thing that clonked me on the head.  It was a little brass trophy. It was shaped a bit like the Tri-Wizard Cup, only it said “A Present from Blackpool.  Home of the International Ballroom Dance Championship.”  I don’t know why I kept it, especially since it cut my head and if I part my hair wrong and you look carefully, you can see the little scar. 

 

What do you reckon, Gran?  Do you think maybe it left more than a little white mark on me?  Maybe some wizard had it and it was one of those—Mis-Inappropriate Muggle Artichokes—whatever it is when a wizard gets hold of something that’s strictly for Muggles and enchants it and lets it loose, like that teapot Ron told me his dad had to confiscate. 

 

Well, we danced and danced, and I think Ginny forgot about Harry for a while, because she looked really happy.  Then I fetched her some Butterbeer and a piece of chocolate gateau, and Hermione brought Viktor Krum over and introduced us. It was very exciting, only I didn’t know what to say, but I asked if he’d seen our Giant Squid yet and he said he had.  Then I asked Hermione if she would like to dance and before Viktor could get all Bulgarian and scary-looking I added, “if it’s all right?”  and he nodded and did something that I guess was a smile and so I got to dance with Hermione after all.  She got that same look on her face Ginny had earlier—the not-a-pathetic-drip-what-happened-to-you look--and then she shook her head and just smiled and looked as though she were enjoying herself. But dancing with Hermione makes me nervous for some reason, so I was glad to get her back to Viktor, and then they went to the back of the Hall where Harry was sitting with Ron. I heard a lot of yelling and something that sounded like “. . . last RESORT, spoiled EVERYTHING, get to bed, NOW” but I decided not to investigate.

 

So I danced with Ginny, and then I danced with Padma Patil, who said she hated Ron now, but she wouldn’t say why, and someone introduced me to Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, but she makes me even more nervous than Hermione, so I didn’t ask her to dance.  And then I danced with Ginny again and then Professor Dumbledore announced that the Ball was over and the musicians packed up, and the chairs started sliding themselves across the floor and stacking themselves against the walls, and Professor Flitwick started vanishing the decorations, so the Ball was really over and Professor McGonagall told us to go straight back to our dormitories and lights out in half an hour. 

 

I took Ginny up to the Common Room and to the stairs at the bottom of the girls’ dormitories, and she said she had a nice time.  Then I didn’t know if I was supposed to hug her or kiss her or what, so I just grinned and flapped my arms a bit like an idiot and said “thanks,” and she went up to bed. 

 

I danced into the dormitory and started to tell Harry about how much fun I’d had, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood and Ron looked really mad about something.  So I’m writing this under the covers by my wand light—I know, I know—because it’s lights out and we’re supposed to be in bed and asleep by now.  And I’m going to go to sleep in a minute—gosh, I guess I _am_ sleepy, I didn’t realize I was so sleepy—but I wanted to write to you first so I could send this off first thing in the morning if I don’t forget, and let you know that I am, really, truly, all right.

 

With love,

 

Neville

**Author's Note:**

> This originally appeared on Fiction Alley under the name Moonyprof1. It was written for a Goblet of Fire movie challenge. The movie diverges from the book, a lot, and in the movie, Neville turns out to be a pretty decent dancer. I thought it would be fun to explore that. 
> 
> Obviously, it was written way before the end of the series came out, but I think it's still pretty in-character.


End file.
